Tag Archives: random

I Didn’t Want to Publish This

This is a post I was hoping I wasn’t going to have to publish. Why? Because it means I didn’t win the Mega Millions drawing on Friday.


This is a bummer because I already had the post written for when I won.

“Hey guys! I’m on my own tropical island working on my exotic container gardens while tirelessly devoting myself to perfecting the slow motion ‘Baywatch’ jog.  Be back in a bit!”

It’s also a bummer because I need money and wouldn’t have turned into one of the 8 out of 10 winners I read about who go through their money in five years and freak out.

I can tell you I wouldn’t get weird. I would get awesome.

So while I don’t generally buy a ticket, the idea of that much money gets the attention of almost everyone, and if you have one functioning cell of imagination in your body, you’ve thought about what you would do with all that money.


First, I would hire a lawyer to handle weirdoes coming out of the woodwork and the details of my fortune. That lawyer would look exactly like Matthew McConaughey in “A Time to Kill” and I would force him to work topless and smell like either Clinique Happy for men or toast.

I would also work on a will, as now I would have something other than my collection of Jillian Michael’s DVDs to leave my family should I meet an untimely death by garbage truck returning home from making my bank deposit and/or passing out bread to wounded geese at the fowl retirement home.

Don’t laugh. Considering I won the lottery, the odds of the garbage truck thing aren’t beyond the realm of possibility.

Of course I would do all the things like pay off my house, take care of my mom and a few hardworking and responsible people I’m close to who wouldn’t let money mar those values. That’s a no-brainer, and most people would give that answer.

But what about after all that normal stuff is done and you still have Matthew McConaughey on retainer? 

That would be the fun part, as I could be a stay-at-home-mom minus the kids, do yoga to stay in physical and emotional shape, write an engaging and witty blog and oversee the management of numerous animal rescue centers I created instead of just making a small donation.

Once that was set and my hair looked fabulous because I could afford to go to a stylist, I would go around and do awesome things for random people—friends, strangers, those just needing a little lift. It sounds lame, but after I had taken care of the big items—and funded a Trader Joes in my town—that’s pretty much the thing I would most want to do.

It would make my heart happy.

I know, I know. There are things money can’t buy, like a prolonged life to spend all the money, a toned body, those authentic belly laughs that leave tears streaming down your face.

And I would still be cranky if it was nearing my feeding time, people would still annoy me when they say “conversate” and the dog would still pee into the wind.

However, these things would be much easier to deal with from my own tropical island working on my exotic container gardens while perfecting the slow-motion “Baywatch” jog (see above.)

Instead, I’m at home looking at the drunk squirrels doing somersaults in my waiting-to-be-planted garden and moving in slow motion because it’s Saturday and the week kicked my butt.

But while I still believe whoever said money can’t buy happiness wasn’t trying hard enough, for now, the squirrels will do.

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The million dollar question: Responsibilities aside, what completely ridiculous thing would you want to buy?

Why I Don’t Have a Stalker

Hello again.

I’m trying to deal with some issues in a “healthier” way than I want to, so I’m writing, but not about those things. Maybe I’ll write about those things in the next couple weeks if I don’t think it will bore everyone. We’ll see. I’m feeling wordy.

But right now it’s the weekend, and  not to brag or anything, but I’m pretty sure I have a hot date with the shovel. Oh yes. I’m told I could get a good six inches, but then again, those things are always exaggerated. 


Or so I’m told.

The only dating I do is reading expiration dates on food.

Anyway, I don’t have a hot date and I don’t have a stalker. Why? Because I’m 154 percent sure that I would bore him to death after about two days.

During the week, my days are basically the same and involve the same route and the same activities. The weekends are similar, minus the drive to work and the occasional TV appearance that at no point included paparazzi or security guards—except to drag me off the set.

Pretty much knowing where I’m going to be might appear to be the formula for a stalker, but trust me. If parts of my Twitter feed lately are any indication, you can see why they would move on to someone with a social life beyond jilted geriatrics and gang-banging birds.

I think I’m safe.

  • For the record, it’s entirely possible to fall up the stairs completely sober. Multiple times.
  • Never ask yourself, “Could I make a bigger mess?” as you will promptly find out that yes, in fact, you can. At least if you’re me.
  • I need the Dog Whisperer to teach Chauncey how to not pee into the wind.
  • It’s kind of amazing how quickly I go from “nothing sounds good” to “why isn’t there more of this to eat?”
  • Today I’m going to replace the word “the” with “le” for awhile. Example: “A piece of le cereal just fell out of my bra.” Sounds classier.
  • Someone found my blog with “Abby + Gordon Ramsay = fuzzy pink gnome tiara” so I have that going for me.
  • Going to Walmart at 6am on the way to work saves the annoying people factor. However, you can’t brag about/show off your teeth. It’s a push.
  • Just spent 10 mins playing, “What the hell did I write on that Post-It?” I think I’m inventing my own language, written only in characters.
  • I’m still wondering if I will ever look at a man as passionately as I look at just about anything with pesto.
  • I think I killed my fake tree.
  • Going to write a novel about a young, successful, beautiful woman who achieves great things. What’s the opposite of an autobiography called?
  • I can’t be sure, but I think there’s some sort of winter bird gang initiation ceremony going on under my bird feeder.
  • Simon says: Shovel, food, couch, hockey game, food, football game, shovel, couch, food, repeat.
  • I actually moved things when I vacuumed today, so I’m basically some sort of cleaning Superhero now.
  • I didn’t win Miss America or a Golden Globe this weekend, but I did manage to watch football & catch up on “How I Met Your Mother.” I win.
  • Despite numerous verbal threats, this bug keeps lunging towards me. I obviously have a very brave adversary. This may take awhile.
  • My uncle called because he was at the bookstore and couldn’t find my book. It turns out he was looking for “Abby is Crazy.” Close enough.
  • Tonight’s quote from the old people’s home: “He might have left me for a woman 25 years younger, but that didn’t make his peter any younger. Have fun with that pickle, missy.”

Now keep in mind that these aren’t all my tweets or anything. I do actual stuff that goes undocumented. I also only tweet from my computer and not phone, therefore reducing the stalker potential even more.

But if you are so inclined to proceed with stalking, please bring a shovel and at least make yourself useful. If I decide to break out the fuzzy pink gnome tiara, I’ll let you know so you can jump back in the bushes.

Just watch out for the gang-banging birds.

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(I encourage this kind of stalking.)

I Don’t Get It

I realize the contents of a post filled with things I don’t quite understand could rival “Twilight” in terms of page count and opportunity for multiple sequels.

However, there have been a few specific things lately that have been brought to my attention—by me—that I want to just throw out there. Either you will explain them to me, or I will continue to make you feel extremely normal in comparison.

Here are some things I currently don’t understand:

  • Certain words that look like they should rhyme, like “wager” and “lager” or “mouth” and “youth.”
  • When people feel the need to explain why they were away from the computer for one day. Really? You need to explain that?
  • Brunch. While I understand the concept—it’s not complicated—why would you want to forgo being able to have two meals by combining them into one instead? I take any opportunity I can for a meal, so I don’t get it. I just know white people talk about it a lot.



  • People who constantly refer to days other than Friday as “Today is my Friday!” No, it’s your Wednesday (or any day other than Friday.) Just because you have the day off does not mean Friday is moving up in the week.
  • On that note, why are people so enamored with Fridays? Yes, I enjoy them, as it means I usually don’t have to go to work the next day. However, I still have to go to work on Friday and I’m usually beat down by the end of the week. In my book, Saturday > Friday.  TGIS!
  • Why I can’t knit a little sweater for my computer so that it stops freezing at inopportune moments, which would be any moment.
  • The obsession with CrossFit and how these fitness fads come and go so quickly the bandwagon should be cited for speeding.
  • People who think they have to make a dessert from scratch every time in order for it “to count.” They make box mixes for a reason people, as even though homemade is preferred, it’s not always practical.


A brownie mix, cupcake pans, a cutout cardboard heart and you have yourself a fun little dessert to take along.

  • How Twitter selects the “Similar to you” suggestions on the side. Sometimes I glance over there and seriously question the direction my life is headed if I am similar to some of those people. Then again, I also feel bad for whoever’s sidebar I show up in, so I suppose it’s a push.
  • Why the second I turn off the water in the shower, every single brilliant idea I have ever had escapes down the drain with the water.
  • Bloggers who talk about monetized page views, SEO, blog earnings, etc. For all I understand, they might as well be talking in, well, html code.
  • Sticking with the blogging thing a minute, I don’t understand why so many people expect every blogger to actually be a good writer. Good writers can be bloggers, but not all bloggers can be good writers. Once you drop that expectation and enjoy it for whatever it is—Ooh! Pretty pictures!—it’s much more enjoyable. If it’s not, you can move on.
  • Laugh tracks on TV shows. We have come a long way in terms of entertainment and innovation, yet they still think a forced laugh track in the background of a sitcom is necessary in order to cue us to laugh.
  • Why I can pluck out every freaking eyebrow on my face except the one eyebrow that I actually want to pluck. Yes, I need eyebrow wax.

There are a couple more, but as I was writing this I realized they needed a post of their own. Unlike my enthusiasm, apparently my confusion knows no bounds.

I don’t get it.

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So, what don’t you get?

I Can Drive 55

Even if I’ve done nothing wrong, my heart still jumps into my throat any time I either see a police car in my rearview mirror or drive by one running radar on the side of the road.


It doesn’t help when commercials or songs have sirens in them either, but that’s not my point.

My point is that I have nothing but respect for law enforcement—my dad was a cop and various family members/friends still are—but when I’m driving, it scares the crap out of me to see them on the road.

There’s really no reason for this paranoia.

I am normally a very law-abiding driver, give or take a few road rage urges from time to time, and I’ve only had one ticket in my 14 years of (legally) driving. It came when I was in high school after I unsuccessfully argued that there was no way my piece of shit Ford Escort could actually go 70 mph without spontaneously combusting.

The officer didn’t seem to care. 

Aside from that $80 misunderstanding, I was also pulled over two other times in college in the same exact spot in the same week—both times when I was skipping class, which should have been a sign. But that’s not important, as no ticket was issued either time.

However,  now every time I pass a cop and I’m actually going the speed limit, I feel like I should get some sort of extra credit or build up a stack of bonus points that I can cash in on those days I might not be going the speed limit, hypothetically speaking, of course.

This hasn’t caught on yet, but there’s still hope.

I bring this up because there has been an interesting development recently concerning the speed limits on a few of the roads in my area. They have raised them without telling anyone, and by “anyone,” of course I mean me.

There are a couple stretches of road that have been set at 35 mph and 45 mph respectively for as long as I can remember, and quite honestly, that was kind of a ridiculous expectation. Most people—not me, of course—went 45 in the 35 and at least 50 in the 45.

These stretches of road were also popular speed traps.

But as I was driving along the other day, I noticed that people were flying by me a bit more than normal. After mentally performing a citizen’s arrest, I caught sight of the speed limit sign, one that seemed to have gained 10 mph since the last time I took note.

speed limit

What? How is this not broadcast on the news? Did I miss a memo?

It seems the powers that be either tired of having to hear bullshit excuses from people being pulled over in this area or finally realized the ridiculousness of their “speed suggestions” and changed the speed limits. This delighted me, not because I want to speed, but because it just seems to make more sense.

But the truth?

Now that the law has been changed, I feel like a total rebel badass and purposely go that route at times just so I can legally zoom down the streets a good 10 mph faster than I’ve been able to do in the past. People who haven’t been as observant as yours truly stare at me as I whiz by, most likely praying I get caught in the speed traps so often set on this stretch.

But little do they know that I will NOT be caught in this trap, as I am simply abiding by the new speed suggestions. Yes, now I can legally drive 55 without crapping kittens* if I pass a cruiser poised on the side of the road sticking something that resembles a hairdryer out of his/her window.

*OK. That’s not true. My heart will still jump into my throat, but that kind of detracts from the badass-ness I am trying to exhibit here.

I was born to be wild.

So spill it. How’s your driving?

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Word Search Vol. 2

If you weren’t around for the first Word Search post, you missed out on the fact that people evidently find my blog by searching  phrases like “Bedazzled yoga pants with garlic” and “Your lizard looks a little limp,” among other things.

This was so fun last time that I think I need to make it a monthly event, mostly just because it makes me giggle, and sometimes I just want to use the word “giggle.”

Plus, I need to lighten things up after my last post, and what better way to do that than to share the fact that people found my blog by searching “cleaning the kitchen floor naked with squirrels?”


This is what you get when you Google “naked squirrels,” in case you were wondering, which I’m sure you weren’t.

Sorry to disappoint whoever that was, but given my OCD and the fact that they have sharp little toe nails, no squirrels will set one little furry rodent foot inside my kitchen. They can watch the naked cleaning through the dining room window just like everybody else.

So without further ado, here is this month’s batch of WTF search terms:

  • Groping girls in yoga pants
  • Pictures of elderly people in wheelchairs having a sock hop at nursing facility
  • Popcorn you make in your pants
  • Grandma smokes weed every day and tells me it’s not addictive
  • The broccoli meant a lot to the starfish
  • It’s a smartass Abby thing (Editor’s note: touché)
  • Ho ho ho seriously she works that mistletoe like a pro
  • How to plate pencil asparagus in fine dining
  • Nude gnomes digestive system
  • The Lexus December to remember we’re poor and miserable
  • Most comfortable underwear for wedgie prone women
  • I bet your screen doesn’t have a cookie on it
  • Bitch, I know you ate the last piece of chicken (Editor’s note: this one came up four times. Again, I do not eat meat. Let it go and simmer down.)
  • Your ass won’t run itself off
  • Elderly thong bingo
  • You better hurry up and start being awesome because I’m not waiting for you

And finally, this last one is going to become my motto for life:

I’m not only putting on my big girl panties, I’m putting on my bitch bra and my shit kicker boots.

Amen, sister.

Like the blog? Put on your big girl (or guy) panties and

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Word Search

I have a post almost ready about how the appliances in my house are plotting against me, but I decided to hold off on publishing that for a couple days.

Why? Partly because I’m waiting to see if my vegetable steamer does in fact mock me again tonight, but also because I want to share some of the search terms that people have used to find my blog.

Other bloggers do posts like this all the time, and although I present a “top five” list on my Facebook page a couple of times a month, I’ve never actually shared them with the masses (all 10 of you.)

I probably wouldn’t have this time either, but when I saw “Bedazzled yoga pants with garlic,” I was freaked out by the fact that someone knew exactly what I was going to be doing this weekend.

Unfortunately, not all the other search terms are quite as accurate—I swear I’ve never written about “Chef Ramsey demotivational training bras” before, despite that suggestion—but they’re entertaining. With that said, here’s a few from the past couple of weeks.

  • Don’t complicate your life with unnecessary thongs
  • Do you like my gnome babushka?
  • I look better after a few drinks
  • Good night, smart ass
  • When having a bad day, remember Daniel Tosh’s titties
  • Naked grocery clerks with nunchucks
  • How do you politely ask a dental hygientist not to use a dental bib?
  • The grass is always greener, underneath my wiener
  • Your pee stinks T-shirt
  • Story of small woodland creatures waking up in purple thongs
  • Hippie gnome’s winter coat
  • Bitch, I know you ate the last piece of chicken
  • Your lizard looks a little limp
  • Somebody staple the talk hole on that bitch
  • Can I hot wax my own face?
  • Unicorn erectile dysfunction and Scrabble porn
  • Senior citizens don’t take any carp (not a typo—they used “carp”)

And if you are the one who found my blog by searching “It’s not my job to blow sunshine up your ass,” please reveal yourself.

We need to be friends.

Now if you don’t mind, I have to go bedazzle my yoga pants and put purple thongs on the squirrels in my backyard.

Obviously the public demands it. 

Being “Punctual”

Because my goal in life is to “educate” the masses about all the unimportant things that I find tedious, today we will “discuss” something very “important” that I think we all need to “address.”

The “overuse” of quotation marks.

I could go into my abhorrence of exclamation points, but we’ll save “that” for another time!

While this is obviously a written medium and you’re reading what I write, the overuse of quotation marks is not limited to the “written” word. Oh no, the overuse of “air quotes” is also running rampant.


It’s a “laser.”

If you’re not familiar with “air quotes,” I have included the Wikipedia definition below:

“Air quotes, also called finger quotes, are virtual quotation marks formed in the air with one’s fingers when speaking. This is typically done with hands held shoulder-width apart and at the eye level of the speaker, with the index and middle fingers on each hand flexing at the beginning and end of the phrase being quoted.The air-quoted phrase is generally very short—a few words at most—in common usage, though sometimes much longer phrases may be used for comedic effect.”

What they don’t say is that the use of air quotes is generally done in a “sarcastic” manner, a way to “attempt” grammatical justification of a jab.

“So, I hear that you’re a writer” has a  much different tone than, “So, I hear that you’re a ‘writer.’”

The first statement has a fairly neutral tone, at least until I add in a few dashes of skepticism and judgment that probably weren’t intended but that I implied. However, the second one seems to imply that being a “writer” is a “dubious” distinction. 

Side note: That may very well be the case, but I’m not picking on writers. Feel free to sub in “singer,” “actress” or any other profession that I have no talent for doing and that would require the use of sarcastic and judgmental air quotes.

Anyway, the proliferation of air quotes and quotation marks in general got me “thinking,” and I tweeted that my new goal in life (after educating the masses about all the unimportant things that I find tedious and eating a meal without spilling on myself) is to find a way to have “air parentheses” and “other” forms of punctuation catch on the way “air quotes” have.

Why do quotes get all the love?

  • It’s hard to describe “air parentheses,” but just imagine that every time you wanted to set off a list or include an aside (as I am often prone to doing,) you made big curving arcs with your arms.
  • In case your tone makes, “You’re pregnant” indistinguishable from “You’re pregnant?” you could take one arm and act out the curvy part of a question mark like in a sassy “talk to the hand”-type gesture, accenting it with a punch at the bottom.
  • Amy suggested that “air ellipses” could be like repeated poking of the air with index fingers on either side and Jess suggested using “air commas” to emphasize your need to pause between phrases and clauses.  For this one, I’m envisioning a parade/beauty queen scooping-type wave.
  • “Air colons” would be acted out like a boxer’s one-two punch, a quick jab-jab to let people know you’re starting a list or an explanation that is preceded by a clause that can stand by itself.
  • We wouldn’t have to worry about the “air semicolon,” as no one knows how to use those anyway.

So even though most of you are only subject to “reading” my words and punctuation—and I can promise that exclamation points will always be used minimally!—if you see me in person, feel free to implement “air punctuation.”

Because while I find the overuse of “air quotes” rather tedious, I’m totally looking forward to someone trying to implement the “air ampersand.”


Do you have any punctuation pet peeves?

What punctuation mark do you think should get “aired” out and how would it be done?